


Into Infinity

by rooonil_waazlib



Series: And Beyond [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, because why not, singledilf!bucky/hotnanny!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/pseuds/rooonil_waazlib
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint hadn’t said that Mr Barnes was such a goddamn DILF, tall and lean and dark-haired, skin a tiny bit tanned like he’d spent a day at Coney Island. Not even five years older than Steve. <em>His face could be my throne</em>, Steve thinks, madly, nearly choking himself on the thought.</p><p>Then the guy grins. Steve’s fucked. “You must be Steve.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [this Calvin and Hobbes strip](http://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/1992/06/30), from 30 June 1992.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to [Young](http://buckywantsafucky.tumblr.com/) for the beta!

Wiping his palms on his pants, Steve takes one last look up and down the hall, then raises a hand and rings the bell next to the door to unit 4701. It’s his first day of work, and he can’t help but wonder how his life has brought him to this moment: standing in one of the most expensive condo buildings in midtown Manhattan, forty-seven storeys off the ground, while on the other side of the door is a child waiting for his care.

It’s not like Steve has a particular passion for childcare. He actually has no passion for it at all. One day, he supposes, he’ll have his own kids, and he’ll love them plenty and care for them, of course—but he’s never felt all that strongly about other people’s children. Especially not rich ones who can afford a nanny.

Steve’s real passion is for art. And while he can scrape by on his sales, it’s by no means cushy, and with a few extra bucks in his pocket things would be a lot better. He’d only sort of idly been searching when Clint had suggested this to him; the dad—single—is a friend of Clint’s from work, and the daughter is just starting school full-time. So here he is, staring at the brushed-chrome number plate, wondering how long he’s going to last with the brat.

He’s seriously considering fleeing when the door opens, and his consideration becomes actual possibility. There’s no way he can do this. No. Stinking. Way.

Clint hadn’t said that Mr Barnes was such a goddamn DILF, tall and lean and dark-haired, skin a tiny bit tanned like he’d spent a day at Coney Island. Not even five years older than Steve. _His face could be my throne_ , Steve thinks, madly, nearly choking himself on the thought.

Then the guy grins. Steve’s fucked. “You must be Steve,” he says.

“Yeah, uh—yeah,” Steve manages, shaking the man’s hand. “Mr Barnes.”

“Uh, it’s Doctor Barnes, actually,” he says, looking the tiniest bit sheepish.

Clint hadn’t mentioned that. “Oh, sh—uh, sorry, sorry, Clint never said.” Steve stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Dr Barnes shakes his head. “It’s no problem,” he says, his eyes a little curious on Steve. It only lasts a moment, though, and then he’s standing to the side and waving Steve into the—frankly stunning—condo. “Come on in. I’ll show you around. Adrienne’s just getting dressed.”

Leaving his dress shoes neatly on the mat next to a pair of mahogany loafers—which probably cost more than Steve’s monthly rent—and a tiny pair of glittery teal Mary Janes, Steve trails Dr Barnes into the condo. It seems that StarkSpace isn’t a particularly formal workplace; Dr Barnes is wearing skinny jeans and a wine-colored henley, sleeves rolled up to reveal bracelets on one wrist, an expensive watch on the other. The floor under Steve’s feet is some kind of light yellowish wood. To the right of the front door is a small library, lined floor-to-ceiling with books. Toys are scattered across the carpet in there.

Steve’s pretty sure that four of his apartment would fit in here. There are three bedrooms—the master, fitted out with a huge king-sized bed, two walk-in closets, and an en-suite bathroom; the guest room, whose bed is smaller but not by much; and Adrienne’s room, the door currently shut while the kid gets dressed. The kitchen is all shiny surfaces and brand new appliances, and it’ll be a miracle if Steve ever figures out how to make a coffee with the elaborate machine set up in the corner.

They step through the dining room then, into the living room, and for a second Steve forgets where he is, walking close to the floor-to-ceiling windows and putting a hand up to the glass. If nothing else, he’ll get plenty of art out of this job; forty-seven storeys, it turns out, provides one of the best views he’s ever seen of the city, looking out over the Queensboro Bridge, the wide glittering expanse of the East River looking so pretty, so clean and blue from up here. “Wow,” he hears himself muttering.

“Yeah,” says Dr Barnes from behind him. “Yeah, I’d still be living back in Brooklyn if it weren’t for this view.”

Steve nods, speechless. And he’d thought he’d be distracted by the view of Dr Barnes’ ass.

“Tateh!” a voice calls, and Steve turns, listening to the patter of tiny feet on hardwood coming nearer. His stomach turns over with nerves.

The little girl who wanders into the living room is, Steve has to admit, pretty much the cutest kid he’s ever seen. Her skin is dark, much darker than her father’s, the color of aged bronze, and her curly black hair is pulled up into a pair of pigtails that look like Mickey Mouse ears at the crown of her head. She’s clutching a slice of waffle in one tiny hand, a geometric-patterned blue and grey backpack in her other.

“Hey, baby,” Dr Barnes says, crouching as Adrienne walks closer. He reaches out to fix her school sweater, navy blue with a little red crest over her heart. “Ada, malkeleh, this is Steve. He’s going to take you to school, okay?”

Adrienne turns her big dark eyes to Steve. He smiles at her, walking over and sticking a hand out to shake hers. Still chewing on her waffle, she lets go of her bag and wraps her little fingers around his. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she replies, then turns back to her father, letting go of Steve’s hand so she can twist at the plain silver ring on Dr Barnes’ left pinky finger. “You’re not coming too?”

“No, sugar, I can’t,” he says, rocking back so that he’s sitting on the floor, Adrienne standing between his long legs. Steve’s not quite sure how he can get such range of motion from such skinny jeans. “I have to go to work today, remember? So Steve’s going to take you to school and bring you home, and I’ll be home for dinner.”

Taking another bite of waffle, the girl moves her hand to fiddle with one of her father’s other rings. “Promise?” she asks.

If she looks forlorn, it’s nothing to the face Dr Barnes pulls as he hugs her, hooking his chin over her shoulder as he screws his face up into something that looks like pure agony. In a dozen years when she goes off to college, Steve thinks, Dr Barnes is going to be a royal mess. “I promise, malkeleh,” Dr Barnes murmurs. Steve tries not to stare at this poignant little vignette, and then tries not to laugh when he hears a crunch as Adrienne takes another bite of waffle, probably getting crumbs in her dad’s hair. Dr Barnes clears his throat, kisses the side of his daughter’s head, and nudges her back. “You all packed up, Ada? Here, let’s see your bag.”

Seeing those two dark heads bent over the tiny backpack, Steve suddenly understands why some women go so doe-eyed over men with kids. Oh, he is so fucked.

-

Steve actually feels a bit guilty over how disparaging he’d been before he’d met Ada. She’s _delightful_ , and almost comically outgoing; by the time they’re walking to school, she’s swinging from Steve’s hand, tugging him this way and that as she jumps on the crispy orange leaves falling from trees, trying to teach him the songs from _Frozen_. He’s going to have to get the _Frozen_ karaoke app she’s told him about, he can tell already.

Ada drags him all the way into the school with her, saying she wants him to meet her teacher. Wading through the crowd of hip-high humans in her wake, Steve lets her pull him into her classroom.

“Mr O!” Ada says, pulling Steve right up to the teacher’s desk. “Mr O, this is Steve. _He’s_ going to be my new mommy!” Mr O smiles at her and stands, extending a hand to shake Steve’s. Steve, blushing, lets his hand be engulfed by Mr O’s enormous one. The man looks like a literal Norse god.

“Uh, hey,” Steve says. “I’m not—uh.”

Mr O laughs, a big, rounded sound, and Steve totally understands why Adrienne likes him. “Dr Barnes told me to expect you,” he says, putting Steve out of his misery. He’s got an accent, his vowels extending until they’re almost physical objects in his mouth, rolling out easy and slow. “You can call me Thor.” _Tor_ , he says, the O drawn out.

“Good to meet you,” Steve settles on, and he’s about to try and say something else—he’s not going to spend his whole day being tongue-tied around obscenely attractive men, okay, he’s _not_ —when Adrienne starts talking again.

“Mr O has the _Frozen_ app,” she says. “We sing it _every day_ , right, Mr O?”

“That’s right, Ada,” Mr O says. He’s got a man-bun. Steve’s so out of his depth. A kid runs into the back of his legs and he steadies himself against the desk. “I suppose we should start class, what do you think?”

“Okay,” Ada says, tugging on Steve’s hand again. He gives Mr O what he hopes is a nonchalant wave and lets her drag him to her desk. “Look, this is my desk, see?” There’s an index card taped to her desk; in big, traced letters it reads _Adrienne_.

“Very cool,” Steve agrees, watching as she lets go of his hand to unpack her backpack. He sets her lunchbox— _Frozen_ -themed—on the desk and crouches beside her chair. “Okay, I’m going to go now. I’ll be back to pick you up this afternoon, how does that sound?”

“’Kay,” she says, pausing so that she can wave goodbye to him.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he leaves the school, wishing he’d brought his sketchbook to help him kill the time.

-

Flopping onto Clint’s couch with a sigh, Steve unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and takes the beer Natasha’s just cracked for him. “Thanks,” he says, taking a swig and propping his foot on the coffee table.

“How’d it go?” Sam asks, passing over a pair of chopsticks.

Steve stuffs a whole dumpling into his mouth before answering. “Give me a minute, would you?” he finally says. “I’m— _starving_ , fuck.” Ignoring his friends, who won’t stop staring at him, he turns his attention to the rerun episode of _Scandal_. He hadn’t expected to be so tired after his first day.

He waits until he’s sated his hunger a bit, and can practically hear Sam’s mental chant of _tell us tell us tell us_. Finally, he puts down his takeout container and sits back, taking another sip of beer. “ _Well?!_ ” Clint cries.

“Well,” Steve agrees, just to fuck with them. Sam flat-out glares. Suppressing a laugh, Steve sits up again. “Y’know, Clint, you could have— _should_ have—told me that your friend was a doctor.”

“Oh—yeah, sorry,” Clint says, deflating a bit. “Yeah, he works at StarkSpace. Some kind of—I don’t know exactly—rocket scientist, or something. We don’t actually, like, work side-by-side.”

Steve shrugs a shoulder and takes another sip of his beer. “What else?” Natasha asks. “How’s the kid?”

“A-goddamn-dorable,” Steve says. “God, she’s _so_ cute.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Clint agrees.

“I thought she was going to be a total brat! You know: spoiled daughter of a single dad? Living in _that_ place? But she’s…really sweet. What’s the deal with her mom?”

Clint shakes her head. “I don’t know the whole story. I think she and Barnes were together in college, and she got pregnant. But, like, I think she’s off in France or Hong Kong or something, working in some big lab.”

“Not part of the picture, then?” Steve asks. Clint shakes his head.

“What’d you do while she was at school?” Sam asks.

Shrugging Steve props his foot against the coffee table. “I wandered around Midtown a bit. Tomorrow I think I’m going to bring my sketchbook.”

“What about the dad? What’s he like?”

“He’s—” Clint starts, but Nat elbows him and he shuts up.

“He’s…” Steve starts, but he’s not sure what to say, except: “he’s a total fucking DILF.”

Natasha snorts and elbows Clint. “Told you so,” she mutters, like Steve can’t hear her.

“Hey,” says Clint, nudging his girlfriend back. “I was just trying to help a friend out. Two friends. Can I help it if you’re attracted to him?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, when I picture Adrienne, [this adorable little girl](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tY549AoDvcc) is who I see.
> 
> Also, if you like my writing, you should definitely come by my Tumblr and [prompt me](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> And, because I appreciate the hell out of them, check out [my beta, Young](http://buckywantsafucky.tumblr.com/).

Three weeks into his job, and Steve’s seen _Frozen_ more times than he’d planned to in his whole life. He and Adrienne watch it almost every day after school while they wait for Dr Barnes to get home, tonight included. Twice.

He isn’t sure he can survive watching it a third time tonight.

Dr Barnes has hired Steve for an extra several hours this evening, and apparently Steve hadn’t had anything better to do with his Friday night than babysit while his boss is out on a date. But, god, he can’t watch _Frozen_ again. Not tonight. He might snap.

Scrolling through the AppleTV, Steve pauses when he reaches the Disney section. Surely, Adrienne hasn’t seen any of the older films. “Hey, Ada, let’s watch _Mulan_ , okay?” he says. “Have you seen it before?”

“I want to watch _Frozen_ again,” she says, her plump little hand reaching for more popcorn. How she isn’t asleep already, Steve’s not sure; it’s ten o’clock, and she’s been dancing around, singing at the top of her lungs, for the last three and a half hours.

“Ada, no, okay, let’s watch something else instead,” Steve says.

“But—”

It feels like Elsa’s cocked eyebrow has been burned onto Steve’s retinas. “Adrienne. Did you know that when you watch movies, all of the people in the movie have to get together and perform it for you?” Her big dark eyes turn to him, wide. Steve almost feels guilty. Almost. “You didn’t? Well, it’s true. I don’t think we should watch _Frozen_ tonight anymore. You have to give Elsa a break or she might get mad at you.”

Adrienne turns to look at the screen, then back at him. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Is your one good?”

“ _Mulan_? Starshine, _Mulan_ is the best.”

-

Twenty minutes into _Mulan_ , Adrienne falls asleep, resting her little head against Steve’s knee. He pauses the movie, tries to take her to bed, but as he lifts her up, she struggles in his arms and he nearly drops her. “No,” she mumbles, kicking a little, “Where’s Tateh? I don’t want to go to bed.”

Sighing, Steve sits again. Adrienne curls both hands into his shirt, so he can’t put her back down on the couch. He cradles her into one arm and starts the movie back up.

By the time Dr Barnes gets home, the movie’s almost over; Steve’s cranked the volume way down. His watch reads 11:10. He’s taking up almost the entire suede sofa, Adrienne curled up on his stomach. She doesn’t hear the front door slam, or the thump of Dr Barnes’ shoes. Steve pauses _Mulan_ and waits, still lying there, as Dr Barnes’ shuffling steps draw near.

After several seconds, he appears in the hall. Steve watches as he props a forearm against the doorway, as he leans his cheek against his bicep and looks in at them, smiling fondly. “She asleep?” Dr Barnes asks, his voice quiet.

Steve nods. “She wouldn’t go to bed until you got home,” he explains. “But she was out by quarter past ten.”

Dr Barnes’ smile grows on his wet red lips. He’s disheveled, his hair sticking up all over the place, his collared shirt unbuttoned at the top and half-untucked from his grey dress pants. His eyes are a bit hazy, lingering on Steve’s face for several seconds, and Steve can smell cigarette smoke on him from across the room. He looks like he’s been having sex standing up. They stare at each other for a very long moment.

Yawning, Steve tucks the blanket Ada’s wearing a little closer around her. “Maybe you shouldn’t tuck her in,” he suggests. “Her room will smell like smoke for days if you go in there.”

Dr Barnes’ mouth twists, but he nods. “Sure, yeah, makes sense,” he says, leaning a bit more heavily against the door. “Are you—um, would you mind doing it?”

“Of course not.” Cradling Adrienne’s head, Steve sits up carefully. She stirs, mumbling, and he pokes at the blanket until her face is uncovered. “Ada, hey, starshine,” Steve murmurs, bouncing her a little until her eyes open. “Hey, guess who’s home?”

Sluggishly, she turns her head; Dr Barnes’ face breaks into a huge smile as she looks at him. “Hey, malkeleh,” he says. “Steve says you wouldn’t go to bed for him.”

“Wanted to see you,” she says, knuckling at one eye. She picks her head up off Steve’s chest and worms her arms out from the blanket burrito so she can reach for her father.

As Dr Barnes straightens up, Steve gets to his feet and carries Adrienne over. Instead of taking her from him, Dr Barnes just rubs his knuckles over Ada’s cheek and leans in to kiss her. Up close he’s even more attractive, scruff just starting along his jaw, long eyelashes framing slightly unfocused grey-brown eyes. Under the smoke Steve can smell the last edge of his cologne, something sort of woody, and under that just the slightest hint that he might have been sweating.

They’re so close that Steve can see the scar on Dr Barnes’ ear where he used to have it pierced. He can’t look away. Dr Barnes is focused on Adrienne, except—then he’s not, then he’s cradling her head to his chest and looking at Steve and smiling a little and _god_ Steve can’t stop staring, can’t stop himself as he sways a little bit forward and—

And Dr Barnes’ eyes drop, and he kisses Ada again. “Okay, sugar, bedtime,” he murmurs, nudging her back into Steve’s arms. “Steve’s going to tuck you in, okay, lovey? And tomorrow morning I’ll make you pancakes.”

-

Dr Barnes is still in the living room, sitting on the couch when Steve returns a few minutes later. “That was fast,” he says, looking up from his phone. Now that Ada’s out of the room, Steve can see just how drunk he is, leaning his elbows on his knees but still looking sort of lopsided.

Steve nods. “She was pretty tired,” he explains. “I think she was asleep by the time I turned off the light.”

Lips curving up, Dr Barnes rubs a hand over his jaw. “Thanks.”

“Sure, I mean, yeah, no problem.” Steve pushes his hands into his pockets. “I think—I think I’m going to head home. Goodnight, Dr Barnes.”

He’s almost out of the room when he hears Dr Barnes get to his feet and follow. “Um,” Dr Barnes says, and Steve turns. “Call me Bucky.”

Steve raises his eyebrows; Dr Barnes just waits, watching him. “Okay.”

“It’s just—” Dr Barnes takes another step forward, then a stumbling half-step back. “No one calls me Dr Barnes. I don’t know why I told you to. I’m just—just Bucky.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill by now, right? Thanks for the comments, thanks [Young](http://buckywantsafucky.tumblr.com/) for the beta, and [find me on Tumblr](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/)!

It’s quiet, quieter than normal, when Steve arrives at the Barnes’ place a week or so into October. Usually Adrienne comes running up to greet him when she hears his key in the lock, but today she’s conspicuously missing.

Kicking off his shoes, Steve turns to head for the kitchen, thinking he’ll grab a cup of coffee before finding Ada. But a movement catches his eyes; in the library, he can see Bucky shifting a little, coming up from the depths of one of the big soft armchairs there. Steve hesitates, watching as Bucky gets up and tucks Adrienne—sleeping—back into the chair before coming his way, looking exhausted.

He’s still in his pajamas, a pair of soft-looking sweatpants sitting low on his hips and an old t-shirt with a faded Superman logo across the chest. It’s absurd to think about how attracted Steve is to him, given the pinched, worried look on Bucky’s face. Still.

Steve follows when Bucky gestures toward the kitchen. He takes the cup of coffee that Bucky pours for him and takes a seat at the bar, watching as Bucky leans against the counter across and rubs a hand over his face.

“What’s—uh, what’s going on?” Steve asks, dreading the answer.

Bucky yawns and folds his arms across his chest, one hand coming up to scratch at his unshaven cheek. “Ada has nightmares, did you know that?” Shaking his head, Steve watches him push himself up to sit on the counter. His feet are bare. Steve’s never been a foot kind of guy, but there’s something about Bucky. Well—it’s everything about Bucky.

“Anyway, yeah. Bad ones. Horrible ones. She has a really hard time going back to sleep after one,” Bucky says.

“So how long have you been awake?”

Rubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leans out a little to look at the wall clock hanging next to the fridge. “God, um, like five hours?” he says.

“Shit,” Steve breathes. “And she…?”

Bucky turns to stare at the coffeemaker, looking like he can barely see it. “Woke up screaming.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee. It’s stale, probably made hours ago while Bucky tried to calm his daughter. Suddenly all he wants is to wrap the two of them up in a nice warm blanket and hold them until they feel better. “So, um. Should I—do you want me to head home? Or—I don’t know, do we carry on as normal?”

“No, look, I still have to go to work today,” Bucky says. “I’ve already called Ada in sick. Can you just—just stick around, let her sleep until whenever, and then, I don’t know, keep her distracted? I’ll try and skip out early, but I can’t promise anything. I just—she needs to be taken care of, today.”

“Sure, yeah, anything,” Steve hears himself say. That pained look is back on Bucky’s face, the one from Steve’s first day. He feels sorry for Bucky. For Adrienne. For both of them.

-

Steve’s sitting in the library, sketching and listening to Adrienne’s soft sleeping breath, when she wakes. She stirs, mumbling, and Steve puts aside his sketchbook and kneels beside the armchair she’s curled up in.

Her dark eyes, when they open, are somber. “Steve,” she says.

“Hey, starshine,” he replies, putting an arm over her blanket cocoon. “You up for some food, kiddo? It’s lunchtime.”

Rubbing an eye, she nods, reaching out. Steve gets his arms under her, cradling her and the blanket to his chest as he gets up. “What do you think?” he asks. “You want some soup? Mac and cheese? Grilled cheese?”

“Mac.” Adrienne’s voice is small against Steve’s neck, her little fists balled up in his shirt. His stomach aches, he’s so sad for her.

She sits on the counter and watches as he makes lunch for both of them, and by the time they’re done eating it’s almost two o’clock. “What do you think, should we watch _Frozen_?”

“I want to watch you draw,” she says.

They’re in the living room, curled up together on one of the sofas when Bucky gets home an hour later. Steve’s drawing—Ada, snuggled up in Bucky’s arms—is mostly complete. She’s quiet next to him; he almost wonders if she’s asleep, but every few moments she reaches out and traces a finger along one of the lines. He’s working at the back of his book, because he can’t show Ada the pages and pages of drawings of her dad, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Tomorrow he’ll bring a new, empty sketchbook, in case she wants to look again.

Bucky pauses in the doorway, looking in at them. Steve smiles at him, but when Ada doesn’t get up, he doesn’t, either. “Come look, Tateh,” she says, “Steve’s drawing us.”

“Is he,” Bucky says; walking over and around the couch, he leans over the back to look over Steve’s shoulder. He’s so close, Steve can feel his breath. He wants to shiver, suppresses it as Bucky reaches out to trace the outline. “Wow, Steve. Clint said you were an artist, but I didn’t think—I mean, I didn’t realize—this is incredible.”

Never quite sure how to accept compliments, Steve nods and fills in another shadow. Ada rubs her head against Steve’s side for a moment, then, tightening her blanket around her shoulders, she stands up on the sofa cushion and reaches behind Steve’s neck for her father.

“Yeah, hey, malkeleh,” Bucky says, his arm brushing against the back of Steve’s head as he shuffles over to kiss the top of his daughter’s head. “Did Steve take good care of you today, hm? You feeling a little better?”

“He made me mac and cheese,” she says. Steve’s happy to hear that her voice is a bit stronger, a bit less faraway.

“He did? That was nice of him,” Bucky coos. “Did you say thank you?”

“Thank you, Steve,” Adrienne says. Her small warm body leans against Steve’s side.

“You’re welcome, starshine.”

Bucky picks her up, leaving Steve’s side cool in her absence. A strong hand comes down on Steve’s shoulders, and he turns to see Bucky, holding Ada in one arm, looking at him with a very serious expression. “Yeah, Steve,” he says, “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Steve arrives at Sam’s place, Clint and Natasha are there already. They’re all pitching in on dinner: Clint peeling carrots, Nat chopping onions, Sam patting salt onto the steaks while the pan heats.

“Guess you’ve got this under control,” Steve says, “I’ll open the wine.”

It’s not until they’re sitting down to dinner that the conversation turns toward Steve and his job. “It’s going well, I think,” Steve says. “Adrienne has nightmares, but I think they’ve been getting better since I’ve been there. That’s what Bucky says, anyway.”

“Oh, it’s _Bucky_ now, is it?” Natasha asks, reaching for a slice of baguette.

“I mean—yeah, I, I guess?” Steve shrugs. “He told me to call him Bucky a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, hey, speaking of,” Clint says, fiddling idly with his hearing aid. “I’ve been asking around for you. Barnes is seeing someone.”

“ _Why_ , Clint,” Steve mutters. A blush is creeping up his neck; the mere idea of Bucky knowing that Steve might be wondering is disconcerting and embarrassing.

“Why what?”

“Why are you asking around?”

Clint’s eyes drift briefly toward Sam, then back to Steve. “I mean, because you’re into him. Right? Aren’t you?”

Well, he’s not _wrong_. “I—look, whether I am or not isn’t the point.” Steve pokes at his steak for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. “But he’s my boss. And if he finds out you’re asking, or that I’m—whatever—who _knows_ what will happen. He’d probably fire me. Then I’m out of a job, and he’s out of a babysitter, and most importantly, Ada’s alone again.”

“Oh—I wasn’t supposed to tell him?” Clint asks, eyes going wide.

“Clint—!”

But Clint just snorts and waves a hand at him. “C’mon, you don’t think I’m _that_ stupid, do you? I didn’t say anything to Barnes. But yeah, anyway. He’s seeing someone. Guess it’s been a thing for a couple of months.”

“I _know_.”

Sam leans toward Natasha; Steve ignores them as she mutters something behind her hand. “You do?” Clint asks.

Sighing, Steve puts his face in his hands. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to look Bucky in the face after tonight. “Yeah, okay, look, there’s a reason I work on Friday nights. And it’s kind of hard not to notice when your boss comes home looking like he got down in the back of a car.”

-

Most of the time, Bucky heads straight from work to his dates, so Steve and Adrienne usually don’t see him until the end of the night. Tonight, though, Bucky’s back by five, smelling of engine grease and sharp orange cleaner.

Steve looks up from the _Frozen_ karaoke app, nudging the iPad until it’s stable on Ada’s lap. “You’re home early,” he says.

Bucky gives them a big wide grin, padding over and kissing the top of Adrienne’s head. “Big date tonight,” he explains. “And I was up to my shoulders birthing a robot today, so I need to shower before I go.”

“You were—wait, what?” Steve asks.

“Why can’t you stay here with me and Steve?” Adrienne says, her whine overriding Steve’s voice. “I don’t want you to go out again, Tateh.”

For a second, Bucky’s smile flickers. He leans down to kiss her again, then kneels in front of the sofa. Steve considers getting up, allowing them some privacy, but he thinks that would be too obvious, and anyway, he kind of agrees with her…

“Look, sugarplum,” Bucky murmurs, rubbing the side of one finger along the curve of her ear, “You and Steve are going to have a really fun time here, and I’ll be home before you know it, okay? I really—I really want you to meet my friend tonight.”

God. Steve’s going to have to make nice with Bucky’s girlfriend. Boyfriend. He’s not even sure. “I don’t _want_ to meet her! I don’t want you to go!” Ada cries, squirming away from Bucky’s touch and shoving the iPad back at Steve before getting up and stomping off.

Bucky blinks at the empty spot on the couch for a moment. His head dips a little, and Steve aches to put a hand on his shoulder, comfort him. But—well, his job is Adrienne, so he puts aside the iPad and goes to find her.

She’s curled up in the library, her little hands clenched into fists, chin wobbling as she tries not to cry. As soon as Steve sits down beside her, she crawls into his lap, tucking her head into the nook created by his arm holding her to him. “I don’t want her to be my mommy,” she says, little voice muffled by Steve’s bicep. “Why can’t _you_ just come and live with us?”

Rubbing her back, Steve hushes her as she starts to sob. “Oh, starshine,” he says, and begins to rock her. “I’m sure you’ll love her. She can’t be _so_ bad, can she? If your Tateh likes her so much?”

This is not, apparently, the right thing to say; Adrienne wails, clutching so hard to Steve’s arm that he can feel her nails digging into his skin through his shirt. He tucks her closer against him and keeps rocking, keeps rubbing her back. He can’t think of any words to say that will make her feel better; he suspects there aren’t any. All he can do is wait her out.

She’s just becoming calm again when Bucky appears, dressed in a charcoal grey suit that’s cut just right across his shoulders. It’s not exactly the best moment, but Steve can’t help but stare for a moment. He swallows as Bucky crouches by his knee.

“Baby,” Bucky says, reaching up and pinching gently at her elbow. After a moment, she rubs her face over Steve’s shirt and then turns to look at him. Bucky tries a smile. “Baby, I’m heading out now, alright? If you’re tired, you should just go to bed, okay, and you can meet Dottie in the morning.”

Adrienne practically growls at him, yanking her arm from his grasp and burrowing further into Steve’s embrace. “ _Fine!_ ” she snaps. “ _Go!_ ”

Sighing, Bucky leans his cheek against Steve’s knee for a moment, looking stricken. He smells _excellent_. He brushes his fingertips over Adrienne’s back before getting to his feet. “Okay, malkeleh, I’ll be back later. I love you.”

-

Steve’s busy reading Adrienne a bedtime story when he hears the front door open. He glances down at her, but she’s not asleep yet, stirring and sitting up in bed. It’s earlier than he’d expected; usually Bucky isn’t home for another half hour or so.

He trails Ada out into the hall, watching as Bucky kicks off his shoes and drops to his knees, getting both arms around her and holding on tight. He tucks his face into his daughter’s shoulder, his eyes screwed shut. He’s alone.

“Hi, baby,” Bucky mutters. “Hi, hi. I missed you, sugar. I missed you so much.”

Adrienne doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge about earlier, or maybe she picks up on her father’s mood, which Steve can practically smell. She pats him on the cheek. “It’s okay, Tateh,” she tells him. “It’s okay. I missed you, too.” Looking over her shoulder at Steve, Ada curls a hand around her father’s. “Where’s Dottie?”

Bucky shakes his head, his jaw clenching for a moment. “No more Dottie, baby,” he says. “You don’t have to meet her, after all.” He reels Ada back in against him, rests his head against her once more. He rubs her pajamas between his fingers. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Steve was reading me a story,” she says.

“Oh, I interrupted, did I?” A small smile darts over Bucky’s mouth, and he glances over at Steve for a second. “Maybe if you ask nice enough, he’ll finish reading to us.”

Turning again, Adrienne blinks at Steve. “Will you?” she asks. “Please, pretty please, Steve?”

So they troop back into Ada’s bedroom; while Steve settles into the rocking chair next to the bed, Bucky tucks her in and then curls up around her on the mattress. Steve props the book— _Elmer_ , a book about a multicolored elephant who wants to be grey—against the bed and starts to read, feeling the prickle of Bucky’s eyes on the side of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst sometimes i post excerpts on my [tumblr](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/) :o


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta [Young](http://buckywantsafucky.tumblr.com) is the best and I also happen to know they're a bit down so y'all should go say hey and tell them we all love them!!

The next Friday, Steve’s no longer planning on staying late while Bucky goes out, because Bucky won’t be going anywhere. He’s getting dinner started, Ada sitting on the counter watching him, chattering away about her plans for Halloween tomorrow night.

Steve glances up from smashing garlic when Bucky arrives, kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for the kitchen. He gets an arm around Ada and leans against the counter, watching Steve. “What’s on the menu tonight?” he asks her.

“Spaghetti,” she says, sipping on her juice box. “Tateh, can Steve stay for dinner?”

Bucky grins at Steve, lifts an eyebrow. Steve’s tummy does a weird flopping thing. “I don’t know, can he?”

Steve’d made plans with Natasha and Clint and Sam, a couple of drinks maybe, something to celebrate not working on Fridays anymore. Celebrating Bucky getting dumped, says Clint. He’s not wrong. Still, he thinks they’ll all forgive him if he decides to stay. He might still get a chance to join them later.

“Yeah, sure, of course I can,” Steve says. “But I don’t want to, you know, intrude.”

“No!” says Ada, at the same moment as Bucky says, “Of course you’re not.”

So Steve agrees when Bucky asks if he wants wine, and the next thing he knows the three of them are sitting together at the table, a weird wonderful picture of domesticity. He thinks he could probably do this every day.

“Are you doing anything for Halloween?” Bucky asks as Steve passes along the parmesan.

“Usually my friends and I get together and hand out candy at one of our places. Sam’s, normally—he’s the only one of us with, you know, a normal job and the kind of place that’s good for trick-or-treaters.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’s that?” Bucky asks. “Midtown’s a bit—you know—not great for trick-or-treating, right, malkeleh? Too many apartments.”

Steve tickles at Ada’s chin; she giggles at him and squirms, her smile a mirror of her father’s. “Bed-Stuy. You know that strip of brownstones up on Macon? He’s up there.”

“Maybe we’ll come and visit.” Bucky laughs a little as Adrienne’s face goes gleeful, her mouth opening wide as she nods and nods and nods at him.

“Oh, _please_ , Tateh,” she whines, “I want to show Steve my costume!”

“Maybe, sugarplum, maybe,” Bucky says, taking her fork from her and stabbing a noodle for her. “No promises, but maybe we’ll head on out to Brooklyn tomorrow night.”

-

Steve’s trying really hard not to think about it; he hasn’t even told Nat, Clint, and Sam that Bucky and Adrienne might stop by. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. So the four of them get ready for the influx of trick-or-treaters, chatting while they get their costumes on.

Steve’s just clipping a navy tin helmet with a white painted A onto his head when the doorbell rings for the first time. Sam—in a very realistic penguin costume—skids by, carrying a bowl full of peanut-free candy. Natasha, as Princess Leia, snags a fun-sized Milky Way as he passes her, then falls into step behind, cooing as the door opens to reveal three _very_ cute children, excitedly calling out, “Trick or treat!”

Steve’s busy fetching more candy from the kitchen when it happens; he hears Clint’s surprised, “Barnes!” and feels his face go red. Nat, mid-sip of her beer, pauses, eyebrow arching at Steve.

“Uh,” he manages before Ada’s screeching, “ _Steeeeeve!_ ” makes him flinch. He heads for her voice, because it would be nice if she didn’t make that sound again, and because—Bucky.

Bucky, who is carrying his little girl in a tiny lion onesie.

Bucky, who is wearing an adult-sized lion onesie.

Bucky, whose face is painted to match Adrienne’s, with whiskers and a blackened nose.

Bucky, who is smiling at him like he didn’t just step out of _The Wizard of Oz_.

“Uh,” Steve says again.

Adrienne squirms and slides down out of her father’s grip, running for Steve with her arms up. He scoops her up out of habit, still looking at Bucky and the ears poking up out of his messy orange mane.

“Steve, guess who we are!” Ada says, placing both hands on Steve’s cheeks and turning his head until he’s looking at her. “C’mon, Steve, guess!”

“Lions, right?” he says.

“No!”

He hesitates, glancing back at Bucky, who’s lounging against the doorway, still smiling at them. Clint and Sam are standing off to the side, funny looks on their faces, and Steve can feel Natasha behind him. “Well, technically, yeah,” Bucky says. “But that’s the only hint you get.”

Steve looks back at Ada, at the yellow and orange spots drawn onto her face and the little tuft of brown hair between her ears. “Oh, starshine—are you Simba?” he asks. His heart melts a little; he’d been the one to show her _The Lion King_.

He’s rewarded when her mouth cracks into that beautiful Barnes smile. “ _Yeah!_ ” she says. How much sugar has she had tonight? “So, my Tateh…?”

Bucky’s still looking at him; Steve can feel his ears redden. “Mufasa?”

“Right in one, Captain,” Bucky says, straightening up so he can salute Steve. He rubs his hands together and glances from Steve to Clint and Sam, who both quickly attempt to make their faces do something—anything—else. “Now, I believe there’s something in all this about some treats?”

-

When Bucky gets home the next Wednesday, Adrienne is intent on her drawing of the puppy she wants. Steve glances up, slurping at the dregs of his coffee as Bucky leans down to kiss the top of Ada’s head. “How’s it going, kiddo?”

“It’s good,” Ada says, not looking up from her drawing. Bucky fidgets with one of her pigtails, sneaking glances at Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve takes pity on him, thinking maybe he wants some time with Adrienne, and gets up.

“I should—probably head on home,” he says.

Bucky trails Steve out of the kitchen, following a few steps behind as Steve wanders the house, picking up his sketchbook and pencils, his backpack and finally his jacket.

“Steve,” Bucky says as Steve sticks his feet into his shoes. His voice is soft, like maybe he’s trying to keep Ada from hearing. He turns.

Bucky’s only half a step behind him, eyes wide, beautiful and timid and all Steve can think is how he never wants to do anything to make him look this way.

And then Bucky puts his hands on Steve’s broad shoulders, gets up on tiptoes. Steve wouldn’t be able to move even if he wanted to, and _god_ , he doesn’t want to. Warm dry lips brush across his and he can’t breathe. Maybe he can breathe—he must be breathing, because he can smell loneliness on Bucky.

That smell is the reason that he pulls back, holding Bucky away from him. “No,” he says.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says. “You don’t—I thought you wanted—”

“No,” Steve repeats, and stumbles back. “Not like this. I’m not going to be your rebound, Bucky.” Bucky says his name again, tries to speak, but Steve puts a hand out. “Ada deserves better, and so do I. You’re my _boss_. If you want this—me—if you really do…figure yourself out, would you, before trying it.”

“But.”

He shakes his head, walks to the door and opens it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so part of me wants to apologize for the cliffhanger but then another part of me is laughing and being evil, so while that part is distracted i'll just let you know that i do have a sequel planned for this! and a sideshot! and i'm still planning a possible sequel to the hockey!au. and i have some other thoughts that i haven't dealt with yet but they're bouncing around.
> 
> in the meantime...[come visit me on tumblr](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com)! i do take prompts there and post excerpts of the stuff i'm working on!

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [Tumblr](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/)!


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